I had promised the thief that I would search for beauty. It was a homework assignment that I have not as yet been taken to task for not fulfilling. I have reported back no findings. So much pain and sadness and shit all around me, that has been what I notice. I thought when I took the assignment that the beauty was out there, eluding me only for the time being. The thief I could tell was certain of it (and that was almost beautiful in and of itself, in fact, might be - but if wrong, if beauty is but illusion, then the cruelty of that face might never be described).
And so it came to be that I stopped looking and like all things lost it was now available to be found (an aphorism! bring on those that argue!). And so it is that beauty has visited, (re?)appeared like the burst of a wave or the spastic giggle of sweet Jocelyn when she finally decides that I am worth her attention in between naps and feedings and general crankiness. The little ones beauty is so unmeasured, so inexact, so perfect (I am thinking of you Max and Sophia, trying to tackle your Uncle in tic-tac-to and hangman).
And I have seen more. I have felt new connections that are both uncertain and promising (what is more beautiful then what might yet be?)
But do not be so fast to count me a believer. I have been tricked before. But perhaps at last the game is afoot.